She doesn't need money She doesn't need diamonds She's lookin' for pretty things She doesn't want romance She doesn't need finance She's looking for rendezvous But every time she's going down She never looks around I'll wait and watch her with my lens until she brings the curtain down 'There behind the keyhole' with my fisheye I'm back in the darkroom I'm covered in fixer I'm making a photograph I'll send her some postcards gd. lropmnd,..,o In glorious colour I'm keeping the negatives I'll form a letter from the news With different type from different lines I'll tell the world about her I'll mail the People and the Times 'Oo it'll be so scandalous For the both of them But mainly her' She showed them her husband He ordered a dozen He thought they were fabulous The one with the -- The two of the -- And three of the --
He sold her to Hefner Who put her in Playboy He gave her a centre-fold I made a real blunder She made it in movies I made her a superstar
